SUNSET ROMANCE: 13) CORPORATE
My Saturday Evening Post
17.
Carol-Ann eyes John Mulberry with some trepidation as he arrives to begin his workday at Sunset Assisted Living. “Lively evening?” she deadpans.
“I’ve had better,” he mutters.
Carol-Ann glances down at a copy of The Independent and up again to Mulberry as he swigs from the Starbucks paper cup. “Have you seen the paper?”
No, that pesky reporter… didn’t… he wouldn’t have… WHAT?
Mulberry spews a mouthful of coffee across the counter, soaking the newsprint.
The phone rings.
Carol-Ann answers as Mulberry looks down at the stained lower front page and reads the alliterative lead: Senescent Shenanigans at Sunset.
Carol-Ann puts her hand over the receiver, her eyes wide with alarm. “It’s Mr. Palamutz. For you.”
Carl Palamutz.
Mulberry freezes and turns white.
Carl Palamutz is the tyrannical owner and chairman of the fastest growing chain of assisted living facilities on the West Coast.
Mulberry rarely spoke to Palamutz directly, and saw him perhaps once a year at a general meeting for Sunset facility directors. Mulberry’s contact with corporate was almost always dealt with by Palamutz’s chief-of-staff—or lower minions.
“I’ll take it in my office,” says Mulberry, closing the door behind him.
“Hello, Mr. Palamutz,” says Mulberry. “What a pleasure to hear from you.”.
“I don’t think so,” says Palamutz. “Have you happened to see this week’s Santa Barbara Independent?”
“Carol-Ann just brought it to my attention and I’m about to…”
“I’ll save you the trouble,” says Palamutz. “On the front page is an article that strongly suggests you are not in control of your facility.”
“I can assure you…”
“Listen to me,” says Palamutz. “I’m not interested in your assurances. If police are needed, you clearly are not in control, because the very nature of a police presence is to take control of an uncontrollable situation. Correct?”
“Uh…”
“What message does this story give to people who are thinking of admitting their elderly parents into one of our facilities?”
Mulberry does not know what to say, so he says nothing.
“It says, Sunset is a dangerous place. Police are needed.” Palamutz pauses. “May I remind you, John, that this is a business? A very lucrative business. Bad publicity is bad for business. Would you please explain to me who called the police and why?”
“We had a situation…”
“I can see that, and we shall address that next. Just answer my question.”
“We called the police.”
“Why?”
“We had to eject an unruly visitor who refused our requests to leave.”
“Is this not why we employ a security officer?”
“Yes, sir. But I did not want the situation to escalate into a physical fight. A single security guard wasn’t enough.”
“Okay,” says Palamutz. “Next question: Do you have any idea who Rodney Peabody is?”
“Yes, sir. He is the son of Elsa Peabody, one of our residents.”
“Not only,” says Palamutz. “He is one of the owners of Greasy Burger. Heard of them, by chance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He also sits on the board of the most important institutions in Santa Barbara. He is a patron of the arts. And his wife is one of Santa Barbara’s most generous philanthropists. Do you have any idea what this means?”
“Sort of, sir.”
“Sort of? Well let me explain it so you know exactly what it means. Rodney Peabody has a lot of clout. And his clout extends to the people most likely to afford our up-market rest homes. It means that he can, if he chooses, spread the word among the moneyed people of Santa Barbara—and elsewhere—that Sunset Assisted Living is not a good home for their aging parents.”
“Uh, sir? What about Mrs. Peabody, our resident?”
“Remind me, John. How old is Mrs. Peabody?”
“Ninety.”
“I see.” He pauses. “Do you think Mrs. Peabody, at her age, is in a position to influence anybody?”
Mulberry absorbs this. “No, sir, but…”
“Stop,” said Palamutz. “No buts.”
“As a resident she is my responsibility.”
“Ah,” says Palamutz. “Your responsibility is precisely what I want to address next. Do you think it was responsible for you to permit Mrs. Peabody to move a male resident into her room?”
“Sir, she did so of her own free will.”
“Free will?” echoes Palamutz. “Our residents do not have free will in our facilities. They sign their free will over to us upon admission. We are in charge, not our residents.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I’ve seen this kind of situation before. It’s rare, but it’s not an isolated case. And I’m sorry you were not better trained. But listen very carefully, because this is what you are going to do next.”
Mulberry takes careful notes as Carl Palamutz issues instructions.